


Desert Places

by Karin (ramoudia)



Category: 100 Days of Sunlight
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Sickfic, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramoudia/pseuds/Karin
Summary: Instead of telling me to leave, she turns her head to the side and pulls the inside of her lip between her teeth.One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…“You can stay for a while,” she offers.“Okay,” I near-whisper.Or: Tessa's not doing too well, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want Weston there with her.
Relationships: Tessa Dickinson/Weston Ludovico
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Desert Places

It’s a Wednesday when I arrive at Tessa’s house and she’s still in bed at five PM. This didn’t use to be uncommon, but in more recent times, it has been. Normally, when I arrive, she’ll be lapping up the sunlight shining through her window, lounging on the floor with headphones on, or sitting in the white wicker rocker in the backyard. Today, she’s got the comforter pulled up to her chin, her body curled up into a ball underneath. The room is the exact middle between light and dark, curtains pulled closed to keep the heat of the sun out but not blocking out all of its rays.

She doesn’t look particularly upset. Sleepy, though. Her braid is ruffled from rubbing against the sheets and she scrunches her nose when I walk past the threshold. “Tessa?”

“Mm,” she mumbles.

“Everything all right?” I cross the room to get seated at the desk, spinning the chair to face her. I drop my satchel beside it, choosing not to get set up just yet. It might turn out not to be necessary.

“I’m not feeling too hot,” Tessa explains, smile tired and forced. Her voice is so quiet that it’s hard to hear, and I lean forward without thinking. “But I do have some ideas. I don’t know.”

“We could try,” I say, coming up with a compromise. “Just for a half-hour, see if it’s worthwhile today.”

“Mm,” she agrees, pushing herself to sit. She leans heavily against the headboard and directs her eyes somewhere over my right shoulder. “Could you sit closer, though? My brain can’t take loud voices today.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll move the chair?” 

Before I can stand up, she shrugs. “Or you could sit here.” She pats the space to her right. On the bed. On her mattress. 

Right.

I swallow, opening my mouth. Close it, open it again. Close. Open. It’s been way more than five seconds. “Yeah, okay.”

Tessa waits patiently while I carry her laptop over to the bed, toe my shoes off, and climb onto the sheets -- on  _ top _ of the comforter. Boundaries. Important.

Right.

Tessa’s wearing a T-shirt in washed-out, light-pink cotton. The material is so soft that it falls into every divot and dip of her shoulders and collarbones, revealing their shape even under the material.

I force myself to stop staring and hover the cursor over the orange button at the top-left of the screen.  _ Create new post.  _ “Okay, I’m ready.”

“I’ve been thinking about nature recently,” Tessa says. “But I don’t have anything specific in mind. I’ve just been… lying here, really.”

“Take your time.” I shift on the mattress, settling comfortably with my back to the headboard. There is half a person of space between us. 

“ _ I wear a crown atop my head _ \-- no, that’s too simply phrased,” Tessa says. She picks at the back of her right hand as she thinks. “ _ The crown atop my head... _ hmm, keep the first one for now.” 

I write it down.  _ I wear a crown atop my head. _

“The… ugh. The…”

Little progress is made over the course of the next half-hour. Fragments of lines and the occasional couplet (working as Tessa’s typist has taught me some poetry terminology) make their way onto the page but eventually, Tessa sighs and shakes her head.

“I think that’s about as good as it’ll get,” she says, sounding resigned. “Just save but don’t post.”

“But you did get words onto the page,” I counter. “Two hundred of them.”

“Really? Huh.” Tessa considers that for a second. “Well, thanks for making me.”

I huff a laugh. I’m not sure what I’m meant to do now, though. Should I leave? I don’t really want to leave. These thirty minutes have lulled me into drowsiness and the idea of moving is beyond unappealing. The darkness of the room, the warmth of the bed, the slow pace at which Tessa speaks, and the soft, smooth timbre of her voice all add to the weight of my eyelids. I fruitlessly try to push down a yawn and blush because she obviously hears it.

Instead of telling me to leave, she turns her head to the side and pulls the inside of her lip between her teeth.  _ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…  _ “You can stay for a while,” she offers.

“Okay,” I near-whisper.  _ One, two, three… _ Think of something to say.  _ Four, five.  _ “What’s your favorite poem?”

“Hmm…” Tessa splays her fingers on top of the comforter. “‘Desert Places’ by Robert Frost.”

“Haven’t heard that one.”

“Didn’t think you would have,” she teases. There’s a small smile on her lips, so I don’t feel insulted. “I could recite it for you.”

In any other context, someone going “I could recite a poem” would sound closer to a threat than an offer. It would be something to be subjected to rather than to be enjoyed. However… In Tessa’s voice, I wouldn’t mind hearing it. “Sure.”

She sighs as she rearranges herself on the mattress, ending up closer to me. Was that intentional? Was it not? My mind races.

“Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast,” she begins. I feel like I’m clinging to every word she says as she continues.

I don’t know what line we’ve reached when Tessa slowly, carefully, moves closer to me. I think I catch the word “expression” when she rests her head on my shoulder, but I’m more preoccupied with the way her hair tickles the side of my neck.

“They cannot scare me with their empty spaces,” Tessa mumbles sleepily. “Between stars - on stars where no human race is.” Her speech is starting to slur just a little, and her muscles are relaxed, body giving off warmth as her arm presses against mine. “I have it in me so much nearer home, to… to scare myself with my own desert places.”

I think she falls asleep, then. After what must be a minute, I whisper, “Tessa?” and receive no reply. I don’t want to disturb her, so I don’t move. I assume she’ll be out for a while. 

Within minutes, I join her in sleep.


End file.
